


More than Mercia

by ToBebbanburg



Category: The Last Kingdom (TV)
Genre: F/M, and fighting, and miscommunication, and sex, but I don't, theres pining, this would be slow burn if I had the patience
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:01:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24791257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToBebbanburg/pseuds/ToBebbanburg
Summary: Does what it says in the tags. After she and Uhtred part ways Aethelflaed comes to realise (aided by Aelfwynn, of course) that her feelings for Aldhelm are starting to change into something new.
Relationships: Aethelflaed Lady of Mercia/Aldhelm (The Last Kingdom)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 48





	More than Mercia

**Author's Note:**

> This story is dedicated to that one dude on reddit who made a post going “does Aldhem is gay? He’s Aethelflaed’s man which gives him license to sleep with her but he doesn’t?”. Maybe Aldhelm just drinks his respect women juice, Mr Reddit.  
> Also this takes place in the same world as my Blades and Braids series, for those wondering wtf is going on when Uhtred and his men show up.

Aethelflaed had despised Aldhelm when they had first met. He was sly, always at Aethelred’s side, and always watching everyone with a smug, calculating expression. It was remarkable, really, how drastic the difference was between what she had thought of him then and how she thought of him now.

If she gave it thought, she could mark the precise moments that had changed her feelings for Aldhelm over the years. The night he had risked everything to tell her about the plot against her life was when she had gone from hating him to viewing him with a grudging modicum of respect. The day he appeared in her bedchamber, bloodied and fighting to stay alive for the the sake of Mercia was when she had begun to think of him as a friend and ally. When he had held her in his arms at Tettenhall, a blade at her throat that he was unable to use, that was when she realised she would be lost without him by her side.

They were all such momentous occasions, events which it would always have been impossible to come out of as the same person. It was strange then, that the moment Aethelflaed realised that her feelings for her right-hand man were growing into something more was such a normal, innocent conversation with her daughter.

As the years had gone by, Aelfwynn had grown more and more fond of Aldhelm, and cared less and less for the man she thought to be her father. It wasn’t hard for a man to be better with her daughter than Aethelred had been. The man had set the standard incredibly low, such that anyone who treated Aelfwynn as an actual child rather than an object to be traded and ignored seemed like a saint in comparison. Uhtred had been wonderful with Aelfwynn, of course, but then he had children of his own. Aldhelm, to the best of Aethelflaed’s knowledge, did not even have bastards, yet he talked and played with Aelfwynn with admirable ease. And Aelfwynn loved him in turn.

“He tells good stories.” She told Aethelflaed one night as she was being tucked into bed. Aethelflaed had made a promise to herself when Aelfwynn was born that she would always be the one to put her to sleep, a stark contrast from her own mother who had left her children to their nurses as much as she could.

“Really. Better than mine?” Aethelflaed teased, though she was not really offended.

“Well, they’re longer.” Aelfwynn said thoughtfully, not wanting to disappoint her mother. “Your stories are very nice, but Aldhelm’s stories have goblins in.”

“Goblins?” Aethelflaed laughed. “I shall have to ask Lord Aldhelm to tell me some of his tales. They sound terribly exciting.”

“They are.” Aelfwynn enthused, sounding far too energetic for a girl who was supposed to be going to sleep. “The goblins are nasty and horrible, breaking into houses and stealing gold and silver, and sometimes they’re sneaky and sometimes they have swords but the warrior princess always defeats them.”

“I should very much hope so.” Aethelflaed leant over to brush the hair from Aelfwynn’s brow and kiss her forehead. “Sleep well. Don’t let the goblins get you.”

“Oh no.” Aelfwynn said seriously. “Goblins only eat men.”

Aethelflaed resolved herself to ask Aldhelm about the stories he was telling, as she wasn’t entirely certain that man-eating goblins was the sort of tale she wanted Aelfwynn to hear. She picked up the candle on the nightstand and stood up, heading for the door.

“Do you love him?” Aelfwynn asked suddenly, before she could leave the room.

“Aldhelm?” Aethelflaed was shocked that her daughter would ask such a thing. “I... he is very dear to me.”

“I think you should marry him.” Aelfwynn said simply, in the nonchalant way of approaching life that children seemed to have.

“I can’t, dearest. I swore an oath.” Aethelflaed sighed.

“That’s a shame. He makes you smile.” Aelfwynn said with a yawn, rolling over so she was facing away from the door. Aethelflaed thought about that as she walked back to her own chambers. He did make her smile, and laugh, and feel safe when she was at her most insecure. She wouldn’t know what to do without him. But did she love him? It had been a while since she had left Uhtred, and though that particular ache in her heart had healed she wasn’t certain she was ready to love again. But once she was… could it be Aldhelm?

She shook her head to get her thoughts in order. She had sworn an oath. It was trivial whether she loved Aldhelm or not if she could not act on it.

Pushing all thoughts of love and Aldhelm from her mind, Aethelflaed headed to bed.

****

Aethelflaed had grown to love Mercia over the years. She loved the people, and she loved the mixture of expansive forests and craggy hills. Wessex was her home, her heart, but something about the view across the land from atop one of Mercia’s many hills was special in a way she couldn’t put into words.

Rather than spending her time hunting, as was traditionally the favoured pastime of Kings and ealdormen, Aethelflaed explored. She rode her horse up narrow winding paths through dense trees and rushing streams, she scrambled up rock faces when her horse couldn’t go any further. Standing at the top of a crag, surveying her kingdom from a view few others had ever seen made Aethelflaed’s veins sing with the Mercian blood of her mother’s family. 

It was during one such journey to the West of Aegelsburg that Aethelflaed saw an opportunity. Unlike other hills she had climbed, the one she stood atop of now had a large, flat top. One could easily build a tower here, she thought, and watch the land as it changed beneath them. On a clear day a sharp-eyed man could see for miles, and an army approaching from any direction would be spotted with ample time to prepare.

It seemed only prudent then, to show Aldhelm her discovery and see what he thought of her plan. A few days later they saddled their horses and rode out, Aethelflaed leading the way as she followed the same route she had taken earlier. It was an easy enough path to follow, the trail running parallel with one of Mercia’s many rivers for the most part. They rode at a relaxed pace, as for once there was no great hurry, and Aethelflaed thought the poor creatures were probably enjoying the rare, slow journey.

It had been raining the night before, and as the land started to slope upwards, gently at first and then more severely, their horses started to struggle in the mud.

“I think we should dismount.” Aethelflaed called over her shoulder to Aldhelm, bringing her horse to a stop.

She leapt down, and set about securing the horse to a sturdy looking tree as Aldhelm did the same. They walked in comfortable silence for a while, the only sounds the rushing of a stream and the distant chattering of birds. It was a beautiful track, Aethelflaed thought, with the stream to one side and the rocky face of the hill to the other, eroded in places to make little pockets and caves in the stone.

“I’ve heard goblins live in those holes.” Aethelflaed joked to Aldhelm. “You’d best be on your guard: I hear they eat men.”

“I take it Aelfwynn has been talking about goblins?” Aldhelm laughed.

“By the sounds of things _you’re_ the one talking about goblins. And quite a lot at that, I would say.”

“It’s true, although I must admit I’m running out of things to say about them. If you could get Aelfwynn to ask about sprites or giants next time I would appreciate it.”

“And will your warrior princess defeat those too?” Aethelflaed asked slyly. The more Aelfwynn had told her about Aldhelm’s stories, the more certain she had become that the warrior princess was her. She was flattered, truth be told, and had especially enjoyed Aelfwynn’s retelling of the tale where the princess had been forced to marry the Great Red Dragon, but had escaped his devious clutches in the end.

“Of course: the warrior princess always wins.” Aldhelm replied with a smile.

“I would like you to tell me one of these stories yourself sometime.” Aethelflaed said, so focused on her conversation with the man behind her that she didn’t notice where exactly she was walking, and slipped in a particularly large patch of mud. She flung her arms out to her sides to steady herself, then adjusted her cloak and carried on walking as if nothing had happened.

“My lady, please be careful.” Aldhelm said earnestly.

Aethelflaed laughed, though the sudden loss of footing had set her heart racing. “I’ve survived more kidnappings and battles than I could count, Aldhelm. I think I’m more than a match for a slightly muddy slope.

“All the same, if you at least told me you _intended_ to be careful I could worry about my own feet rather than yours.” He replied with a smile, and Aethelflaed found herself smiling back.

“Very well. I shall endeavour to be careful.” She told him before turning to carry on up the hill.

She had got perhaps ten paces up the slope when she fell. She didn’t shriek. Of course not. She may have let out a small noise of surprise, but it was certainly not a shriek. As she fell an arm reached forward to steady her, and for a brief moment her descent paused as she clung on to Aldhelm’s arm. Then the mud below Aldhelm’s feet also gave way and Aethelflaed’s grip caused him to fall down after her.

He landed above her, and though he was only on top of her for a second before he rolled off Aethelflaed found herself feeling rather flush. It was just the contact of another person after so long, she told herself. It was nothing to do with Aldhelm himself.

Aldhelm had managed to stand up before she could, and he offered a hand out to Aethelflaed to help pull her up. She took it, grateful that the gloves she wore offered a barrier between her skin and his. After her conversation with Aelfwynn she wasn’t sure she would be able to cope with even the slight intimacy holding hands would offer.

She brushed herself down, realising with displeasure that the back of her cloak and dress were thoroughly muddied. Aldhelm, the lucky man, had escaped with only the lightest covering of mud on his knees and forearms. He was trying very hard to suppress a smile.

“Perhaps the warrior princess doesn’t _always_ win.” He said in an overly serious tone, and Aethelflaed couldn’t help but laugh.

“Perhaps not.” She agreed. “The warrior princess should maybe follow the advice of her loyal adviser once in a while.”

They managed to make it to the top of the hill without any further mishaps, and Aethelflaed had to pull her cloak tight around herself as the lack of trees left them exposed to the harsh wind.

“What do you think?” she asked, bundling her hands under her armpits.

“It’s beautiful.” Aldhelm said softly, looking at the land stretching out below him.

“I had meant with regards to building a lookout post here but yes, yes it is.” Aethelflaed clarified, though a part of her was thrilled that Aldhelm saw the same magical beauty in the view that she did.

“My apologies, lady. It is not often I get to enjoy such scenery when not fearing for my life.” Aldhelm smiled, then turned around to survey the hilltop.

“It’s rocky.” He assessed, treading slowly across the ground. “It would be hard to dig the foundations but once dug whatever you built here would stand strong.”

“I was thinking we build a beacon over there.” Aethelflaed gestured a little further along the ridge. “A messenger from here would be able to reach us in little over an hour, but the beacon will help to alert us.”

“An excellent suggestion.” Aldhelm noted. “And perhaps we should build a larger hall halfway down this hill, so we can house more men to take shifts on watch duty.”

“How many men would you suggest?” Aethelflaed stamped her feet against the cold. The view was marvellous up here, but the weather was cruel.

“No more than eight, I should think. Three at least up here at any one time, the rest in the larger hall resting or tending to the horses.”

Aethelflaed nodded. Eight men seemed reasonable.

“And how long would it take to build?” She asked. She guessed they could build everything they needed somewhat crudely within the year, but she wanted Aldhelm’s opinion.

“A year. Two, at most, as we may wish to also clear a better path to the summit.”

It was a good plan, Aethelflaed thought, and she was glad that Aldhelm agreed. She made her way over to the edge of the hill, sitting down on the rock there. She wasn’t ready to return back to her duties as the Lady of Mercia just yet. As if he knew her thoughts, Aldhelm came to sit down next to her. They sat in silence for a while, doing nothing but enjoy the land around them and each other’s company.

****

Aethelflaed couldn’t sleep that night. Every time she closed her eyes her mind replayed the moment she had fallen, bringing Aldhelm down on top of her. What would have happened if she had held him there against her? If she had lifted her head ever so slightly to kiss him? He would have responded, she was sure of it. He would have cushioned her head with his arm as he kissed her, his other hand reaching inside her cloak to feel her through her dress. He would be gentle, but passionate, and he would-

Aethelflaed turned over in her bed and angrily punched her pillow into a better shape. She did not have feelings for Aldhelm. She didn’t. He was a friend, and a loyal adviser, and he had such a sweet smile when he thought no one was paying attention to him, and his eyes were always so earnest and soulful and- God help her. She was falling in love with Aldhelm.

When she awoke the next day she was little better. It was utterly absurd. Aelfwynn’s innocent comments coupled with their trip up the hill the other day had conspired to make her acutely aware of every little thing Aldhelm did.

He would hum ever so softly when he wrote his letters. Whenever he clasped his hands behind his back his fingers would tap an unheard tune against each other. His often solemn face would crack into a smile whenever Aelfwynn came running for him, and that smile would grow even bigger when Aethelflaed entered a room. He would then hide that smile and school his face into a practised mask of indifference as soon as it appeared, and it made Aethelflaed’s heart ache that he should ever hide such a joyous expression. Every movement, every sentence, every expression suddenly seemed so endearing that she wondered how she had never seen him in this light before. Aldhelm made her feel warm inside in a way she had never thought to feel again.

It was a different sort of love than she’d felt before. Aethelred she had thought she’d loved at first sight, but like a moth drawn to the dancing lights of a candle she had only been burnt. Erik was her true first love, and Uhtred her greatest. The love she had felt for both men had burned quick and strong, had suddenly consumed her very being. Aldhelm was different. If her love for Uhtred had been like a spark landing on tinder, igniting in an instant, what she felt for Aldhelm was akin to a long-smoldering ember, that had slowly been breathed into flame. The flame took hold in her heart, tinting all thoughts of Aldhelm with a soft glow.

Such was her distraction, in fact, that for the first time in her memory he managed to beat her at sparring. They often fought against each other to keep sharp, and Aethelflaed, schooled by Steapa and Uhtred, always had an edge over Aldhelm. Until today, it seemed. Their session ended with Aethelflaed on her back, her sword lying far from her hand.

“A decisive victory.” She congratulated Aldhelm as he pulled her to her feet. She felt warmth spread up her arm from where his hand had been, and wished he had kept it there a fraction longer.

“I got lucky, lady. I fear any other day you would have me beat.” He sheathed his sword and wiped the sweat from his brow, pushing part of his fringe to one side in the process. Aethelflaed had the urge to brush his hair back into place, and she reached out to comb the errant hairs with her fingers. Aldhelm surprised her by catching her outstretched hand with his own.

“I would prefer you not to touch me, lady.” He said softly.

“Of course.” Aethelflaed withdrew her hand. She had always been careful not to touch Aldhelm in such a familiar manner before, or to stand too close to him. It would not be fair to give the man false hope, but now given her own changed feelings surely the hope given by a touch would no longer be hollow? She swallowed, uncomfortably aware that a lump seemed to have formed in her throat.

“What if I would prefer it if you touched me?” She asked, choosing her words carefully as she gauged Aldhelm’s reaction. “I find myself thinking I would enjoy your... touch.”

Aldhelm’s jaw clenched, though he hid it well.

“Lady, there is little more I want in this world than you in my arms. But I fear to give in now, on a whim, will only ruin us both later. I have satisfied myself with being your friend and protector: as that is all I will ever be to you you must forgive me, but I cannot.” Aldhelm said his piece quickly, then nodded respectfully and left before Aethelflaed could reply. Before she could correct him.

Yes, in that moment she had been thinking of the immediate satisfaction she and Aldhelm could bring to each other, but there was more to it than that. She had loved Aldhelm as a friend, and she was certain now that she loved him more than that. She bent down and picked her sword up, resisting the urge to kick it along the ground in frustration. She was the Lady of Mercia, and better than this.

It was probably for the best Aldhelm had turned her down, she told herself. She should never have let herself be tempted, should never even have contemplated breaking her oath. She sighed, and found herself wishing she had someone to talk to about this. She would write to Hild, she decided. It might be cathartic to get all of her confusion and frustration down on paper, and Hild would not judge her.

Convinced that corresponding with Hild would solve all of her problems, Aethelflaed left to write her letter.

****

Hild offered a little comfort, and for that Aethelflaed was grateful. Her response to Aethelflaed’s letter had contained reassurances that love was God’s greatest gift to man and nothing to be ashamed of, and the promise that she would pray for Aethelflaed to stay strong and honour her oath. She ended with a note that said that though as an abbess she must disapprove, as a friend she firmly believed that if Aldhelm was her happiness then Aethelflaed should tell him in no uncertain terms.

Aethelflaed thought about that last paragraph a lot over the following days. She wanted to tell Aldhelm that he had misunderstood, that she wished to have him by her side for more than one night, but he had proved hard to talk to. He carried out his duties as normal, with faultless efficiency, and still found time to tell Aelfwynn his stories, but whenever she approached him he would make an excuse to be somewhere else. After the first day of this behaviour Aethelflaed stopped trying, deciding he needed time to himself before she spoke to him, but as the week wore on her resolve to set matters straight with him waned. Within another week they had fallen back into their old pattern of friendship, and Aethelflaed was loathe to potentially ruin the restored peace.

The days passed by, and though it hurt Aethelflaed to hide her feelings she decided that this was simply the way it had to be. She was the Lady of Mercia, sworn to never take another man, and it would be enough to have Aldhelm by her side as her friend. As it had been enough for him to bear to be her friend as she had engaged in her affair with Uhtred. This was God’s punishment for adultery, she thought, and spent more time in prayer that evening than she was accustomed to as a result. It made her feel like her father.

The time came about to start building the watchtower on the hill, and late one morning Aethelflaed rode out with Aldhelm and two of her men to survey the area properly. They had journeyed most of the way to the hill when trouble struck.

The trouble came in the form of eight men, each of them a hardened sword Dane, and it came swiftly and without warning. One moment they had been riding along the narrow path in peace, the next Aethelflaed was flung from her horse and came to rest staring straight into the dead eyes of one of her men. He had been struck through the chest by a spear, a similar spear to the one that lay in her horse’s side.

Struggling to her feet, Aethelflaed ran. She was dimly aware of Aldhelm and her other man, Raedwald, racing after her, and she could hear the Danes laughing as they gave chase. She was thankful that she was armed, but they were significantly outnumbered and she didn’t fancy their chances in a fight. She startled when she heard the sound of another spear flying through the air, connecting with someone and bringing them crashing to the ground. She risked turning backwards and saw that Raedwald had fallen, but thank God Aldhelm was still alive, still running.

“This way!” she shouted back at him. They had a decent enough gap between them and the Danes, and Aethelflaed consulted her mental map of the woods to work out their likeliest route of escape. There was a place nearby she had found long ago, a fortified bridge that if God permitting would buy them enough time to leave the Danes behind.

She was breathless as they caught sight of the bridge, but found that the sight of their salvation gave her enough energy to power through the pain. The bridge was high above the rushing river below, and was impossible to cross without going through the house that sat in its centre. The building was Roman, Aethelflaed had always thought, though until recently someone had looked after it, keeping the walls repaired and the doors fitted. If they barricaded the door the Danes would have to break through to pass, as the banks of the river were too steep to cross. It was perfect.

“Here!” She shouted to Aldhelm, running for the door to the house. She wrenched it open and stood aside as Aldhelm rushed in, then picked up the heavy beam that served as a lock and barred the door.

“Come on, through the back. That door won’t stand against axes for long.” She ran to the other side of the house then realised Aldhelm hadn’t followed. Outside she could hear the sound of the Danes dismounting from their horses.

“Aldhelm, come _on_.” She urged, worried by the look in his eyes.

“They’ll catch up to us if we both run. I can delay them.” He said, drawing his sword.

“No. Aldhelm, we can leave together if we leave _now_.” Aethelflaed hissed, though in her heart she knew he was right.

“I swore I would die for you, lady.” Aldhelm said with a sad smile. “If my death can buy you the time needed to reach safety then I will gladly give it.”

“Aldhelm you will not do this. We can fight them together.” Aethelflaed said desperately as the first axe thudded against the door, causing little shards of wood to splinter away. They were running out of time.

“And we would die together.” Aldhelm argued. There was a steel in his eyes Aethelflaed rarely saw, a grim determination that had always lain dormant in the man and only occasionally came to the surface. That only showed itself when she was in danger. She could tell then that there was no changing his mind.

“Very well.” She swallowed. “Farewell, Aldhelm.” She leant in and brushed her lips against his, taking little pleasure in finally kissing him. It was a kiss goodbye, after all.

“Run, lady.” Aldhelm whispered, and there were tears in his eyes. The door to the guardhouse finally splintered apart under the Danes’ axes. Aethelflaed ran.

She tore through the trees and along the river bank, never slowing down even as her chest tightened and her legs burned. She ran until she came to a point in the river where the stream narrowed enough for her jump across over the raging current. She sent a prayer of thanks to the Lord that she had come this way on one of her many journeys out exploring the countryside, and she used that knowledge to find her way back to the guardhouse on the bridge.

There was shouting coming from inside, and with a cry Aethelflaed pushed past the splintered remains of the front door and stabbed her dagger into the back of the first Danish neck she saw, wasting no time in throwing herself into the fight.

The man crumpled to the ground, and Aethelflaed lashed out again, riding the wave of surprise as far as it could take her. Her dagger flashed across another Dane’s face and he howled in pain, dropping his sword to clutch at his ruined eye. She drew her own sword then and stabbed him through the neck, drawing back to survey the room.

Of the eight men who had pursued her two lay dead by her hand, and another two by Aldhelm’s. Aldhelm was backed into a corner by the remaining Danes, and Aethelflaed yelled to get their attention. To her relief two of them disengaged from Aldhelm and advanced on her instead. Two against one. They could do this.

She had no idea how Aldhelm fared, if he was injured or not; all Aethelflaed focused on were the men in front of her. She took a step back, then another, then waited until the first man had to break his stride in order to step over the bodies of his fallen brothers before she lunged.

The man was caught off guard, but he parried, and soon their swords were dancing. All through their fight Aethelflaed watched the other man out of the corner of her eye, ducking and dodging his frantic attacks as he joined the fray.

God was on her side that day, and she dived out of the way as the taller of the two men swung his axe in a particularly vicious manner. Such was the force with which he swung that the axe whistled through the empty air where Aethelflaed’s neck had been and carried on its arc into the chest of the other man. Aethelflaed took her chance and slashed at the man’s legs and down he fell, leaving just her and the axeman standing.

“There’s a price on your pretty head, princess.” The Dane chuckled, swinging his axe as he advanced. Aethelflaed backed up out of the house and onto the bridge. “And I intend to collect.” He swung his axe up and over his head, and she only just managed to dodge backwards in time.

Every time she tried to get a swipe in with her sword he easily parried it with his axe, and on a particularly desperate lunge his axe hooked her blade and tore it out of her hands entirely. He laughed, and swung his axe yet again. It came slashing down at an angle, aiming straight for her head and-

-Aethelflaed caught the shaft of the axe with her hands, stopping the blade inches from her skull. She yelled with the exertion, and seizing the brief window where her assailant was momentarily stunned she stamped down hard on his instep, then as he instinctively curled in on himself slightly in pain she wrenched the axe out of his hand and butted him hard in the nose with the end. Before he could recover she used all her strength to bring the axe down into his neck.

He howled in pain, mortally wounded but not yet dead, but Aethelflaed didn’t wait to finish the job. She scooped up her sword from the ground and ran back into the house, dimly registering that one of Aldhelm’s opponents was lying on the floor before her sword found its way to the back of the last Dane. He staggered, and fell, narrowly missing Aldhelm who himself seemed only to be upright by virtue of the wall behind him.

As Aethelflaed stood panting, the fire of battle still coursing through her body, Aldhelm sunk down against the wall. He was covered in blood, and she didn’t know how much was his own.

“Are you injured?” She asked, tossing her sword to the side and crouching down to check him over.

“Just scratches.” He said weakly. They were more than just scratches. None of the cuts bar a couple were particularly deep, but there were many of them, and if not properly tended to would turn gangrenous. He had a shallow cut across one cheek that would certainly scar.

“Can you stand?” She asked.

“I think so.” He nodded, and braced his hands against the wall to help himself stand. “I told you to run, lady.” He said softly, though he was smiling.

“And I did, Aldhelm. I ran back to you.” Aethelflaed lifted one of his arms around her shoulders and helped him limp outside.

The Dane she had left for dead was still clinging on to life, and she propped Aldhelm up against the bridge’s wall to go over to him.

“Who sent you?” she demanded, watching as he gasped and tried to stem the flow of blood from his neck.

He said something in reply, but it was so faint and garbled she couldn’t make out a single word or name. With a frustrated groan she pulled out her dagger and ended his pain. He may have tried to kill her, but he didn’t deserve to suffer any longer. She went back to Aldhelm, and step by excruciating step they managed to make it back to the horses. Two were dead and another had run off, but one remained, and using the last of her strength she helped Aldhelm clamber up it before swinging herself up to join him.

The journey back was slow, and Aldhelm kept losing his grip on consciousness and almost falling off the horse. Aethelflaed hardly registered the journey back to Aegelsburg, but somehow, they both made it back. A healer was called for, and the last thing Aethelflaed remembered before she herself fell into a deep sleep was Aldhelm whispering:

“The warrior princess always wins.”

****

Aethelflaed came to later that evening, waking up to feel a light pressure against her side. Opening her eyes she realised she was in her own bed, with Aelfwynn curled up tightly against her.

“Hey.” Aethelflaed said softly, running her fingers through her daughter’s hair. Aelfwynn stirred and looked up at her. Her eyes were wet with tears, but she smiled and wiped them away with her sleeve.

“You’re alive.” She said.

“Of course. I would never leave you.” Aethelflaed struggled to sit up. Her body was battered and bruised but she felt more or less alright. She pulled Aelfwynn close to her and kissed the top of her head.

“Aldhelm is injured.” Aelfwynn told her sadly as she wrapped her arms around her.

“What do the healers say?” Aethelflaed asked, her pulse picking up.

“I don’t know.” Aelfwynn said miserably. “They won’t let me see him.”

Aethelflaed summoned the strength to get out of bed at that, taking Aelfwynn by the hand and making her way through the hall until they reached Aldhelm’s room. It was silent inside, and she tentatively pushed the door open. The first thing she saw was Aldhelm lying motionless on his bed, stripped of his clothes and bandaged up. Her heart jumped to her throat and she let go of Aelfwynn’s hand as she rushed in, falling to her knees by his bed.

“He’s resting, lady.” A voice behind her said, and she turned to see a healer resting against the wall. The woman looked exhausted, and her smock was covered in blood.

“Is he alright? Will he live?” Aethelflaed demanded of her.

“He should, lady, God be willing. He just needs to sleep now.” The woman pushed her self to her feet and joined Aethelflaed at the bed. “I’ve clean and stitched his wounds as best I can, though I dare say he’ll have a few more scars than he used to.” She joked weakly.

“Thank you.” Aethelflaed sincerely. “If there’s anything you need from me, anything at all, you need only ask.”

“Thank you, lady.” The healer nodded, then retreated.

No sooner had she left then Aelfwynn crept into the room, her eyes wide as she looked at Aldhelm.

“He’ll be fine.” Aethelflaed told her, though she was having to furiously blink away her own tears. “But you must say extra prayers for him until he is well again, do you understand?”

Aelfwynn nodded mutely. Aethelflaed choked back a sob as her daughter bent her head there and then and started furiously whispering the Lord’s prayer under her breath.

“Not here. Come. We shall pray together in the chapel.” Aethelflaed said, laying a soothing hand on Aelfwynn’s shoulder. Her daughter stood up and took her hand again. Aethelflaed paused to lean down and take Aldhelm’s hand in her free one.

“You will not die on me. Not now.” She told him.

She left the room without looking back. She was certain she would not be able to stop the tears if she did.

****

Aldhelm had a fever, and ran hot and cold for nearly a week as his body tried to mend. When his fever finally broke he was weakened, and couldn’t leave his bed for another few days. Aethelflaed had taken to reading to him as he dozed in and out of consciousness, and had ordered for a desk to be brought into his room so that she could reply to her letters as he slept. Aelfwynn would join her occasionally, telling a sleeping Aldhelm her own stories as she worked on her embroidery.

When Aldhelm finally came round properly Aethelflaed was there with a cool cloth and a mug of weak ale. She couldn’t describe the happiness she felt when his fingers tentatively reached out to touch hers where they lay clasped in her lap.

“It seems I have you to thank for my life yet again.” He said weakly, his voice still dry and rough despite the ale.

“And I have you to thank for mine.” She replied, taking his hand between both of hers.

“Then we are even.” He laughed, then winced.

“Be careful.” Aethelflaed said quickly, on reflex.

“I will try.” He promised.

He barely had the strength to carry on the conversation, and soon fell back into sleep. Aethelflaed discovered she couldn’t find the heart to remove her hands from his, and so stayed there, sat at his bedside. He didn’t sleep for long, only half an hour before he woke again, smiling when he saw she was still there.

“I thought I’d dreamt you, lady.” He said.

“I’m here, Aldhelm.” Aethelflaed lifted his hand and gently kissed the join between her hand and his, then met his gaze.

“You once said you would die for me, Aldhelm. I would have you swear to live for me.” She told him. She knew it was a promise he could never keep, for what man had control over his own destiny, but she wanted him to know how deeply she felt for him.

“I swear it, lady.” He replied, and his reserved smile tore at her heart.

“I would kiss you, Aldhelm, if you let me. I would kiss you every day, and every night, and hold you in my arms as we rule Mercia side by side.” She said, hoping that this time, after everything, he would see the sincerity of her feelings.

“Nothing would make me happier, lady.” He said solemnly.

“Aethelflaed.” She corrected. “You must call me Aethelflaed.”

“Aethelflaed.” He said with a smile, and she kissed him.

It was a slow kiss, a soft kiss, a kiss that promised many more to come. Aldhelm’s lips were cracked and dry but Aethelflaed didn’t care. She kissed him until she had no more breath left in her and withdrew, never letting go of his hand.

“What of your oath to the ealdormen of Mercia?” Aldhelm asked, ever wary of their duty to the kingdom.

“Do not worry about that.” Aethelflaed told him. “For now, they need not know. And besides, you are Mercian through and through. Our union could only strengthen the kingdom.”

“We can but hope they see it that way.” Aldhelm said, then coughed. Aethelflaed let go of his hand in order to pour him a drink and hand it to him. He drank it gratefully and sighed.

“I fear I am not good company, lady.” He said with a slight smile.

“Do not worry.” Aethelflaed kissed his forehead. “Sleep. Recover. And I will be here when you wake.”

****

Gisela had been a wonderful woman. She had always looked out for Aethelflaed in those early years when she was married to Aethelred, offering kind words, and poultices for the bruises. She had also taught her how to mix together certain herbs to ensure a child of Aethelred could never grow inside her. It was a mixture Aethelflaed had prepared many times over the years with Uhtred, and it was a mixture she prepared now for Aldhelm.

If Aethelflaed had thought that Aldhelm would be as submissive and gentle in bed as he was in his position as her right-hand man, she was happily mistaken. Aldhelm was ruthless in his pursuit to bring her pleasure, riding her hard and fast into the night until her thoughts muddled and she melted in his arms. He brought her to her peak with his hands, with his tongue, with his cock, and cared little for his own release until he was satisfied that he had wrung every last drop of pleasure out of her. Aldhelm was _thorough_ and Aethelflaed, for once, was happy to let someone else take charge.

Much to her shame, the secrecy that was necessary for such an affair came naturally to her. Aldhelm felt much more guilt than she did, though he himself was breaking no oath. Aethelflaed wondered how long they would have to carry on in secret, for she longed to let everyone know how much Aldhelm meant to her. It was torture, having Aldhelm by her side during Witans, during feasts, and being unable to touch him. She longed to reach for his hand, to kiss his cheek, to tell him how much he meant to her without having to worry who was watching. Aldhelm felt the same, he told her as much during one of their stolen moments together, but he was much better at hiding it than she was.

It was during one long morning of hearing her subjects’ petitions that Aethelflaed found herself more distracted than usual by the presence of Aldhelm by her side. She couldn’t say exactly what it was, but she was finding it impossible to concentrate on anything but the man beside her. The petitions she was meant to be listening to were terribly dull and Aldhelm was sitting just close enough to her that the urge to reach out and touch him was consuming her every thought. He at least appeared to be listening intently, his head tilted ever so slightly to one side and his eyes sharp. When Aethelflaed glanced at him all she could think of was the way he had looked between her legs the night before, how those sharp eyes had met her gaze as he’d lowered his head and used his tongue on her until she’d cried her release. She shifted in her throne, crossing her legs. She had to focus.

“...and so I will need to increase fortifications on my land.” The petitioner’s droning voice finally fell silent, and Aethelflaed struggled to remember what he had been asking her for in the first place.

“I see.” She said, nodding as if she’d taken everything in. “Lord Aldhelm, what do you suggest?” She turned to her right, hoping Aldhelm would rescue her, but was put off by the slight smile he quirked in her direction. He knew instantly that she hadn’t been paying attention, she could tell.

“I would suggest we send ten of our own men to help build these fortifications, so long as Lord Cuthbert promises to feed and shelter them and their wives for the duration, should they wish to bring their families along.”

“Thank you, Lord Aldhelm. An excellent suggestion. Does this suit you, Lord Cuthbert?”

“It does, Lady, thank you.” Cuthbert bowed and left, and Aethelflaed shifted in her chair.

“How many more?” She whispered to Aldhelm.

“Just three more, lady.” He replied with a smile.

The other petitions passed at a cruelly slow pace, Aethelflaed having to focus harder than she ever had before to follow what her subjects were asking of her, and not fall into daydreaming about Aldhelm’s hands on her. When at last the final man had left the hall she stood up immediately and left the room, casting a meaningful glance over her shoulder at Aldhelm to make sure he followed.

“You are insatiable.” Aldhelm laughed as Aethelflaed pulled him into her bedchamber.

“You were far too distracting.” Aethelflaed reproached him in between hungry kisses.

“I was merely performing my duty to Mercia.” He said lightly as he deftly untied her dress, letting it fall and pool on the floor around her feet.

“You kept crossing your legs.” Aethelflaed said sternly, wrestling with Aldhelm’s tunic in an attempt to remove it so that she could press herself against him, bare skin to bare skin.

“And how did crossing my legs distract you, lady?” He teased as his fingers ran down her back, causing her spine to shiver.

“You crossed your legs, and all I could think of was how much I wanted to be between them.” Aethelflaed cupped Aldhelm in her hand and squeezed slightly, her fingers lightly tracing the outline of his cock through his breeches. His breath hitched and his hands found their way to her arse, kneading the muscle there as he pulled her ever closer to him.

“I could not stop thinking about how much I wanted you.” Aethelflaed continued, untying the laces of his breeches and pulling them down just enough to get his cock out. She wrapped her fingers around it and stroked it into hardness, sucking marks onto Aldhelm’s neck as his breath started to come out in low pants.

“What do you wish, lady?” He asked her breathlessly, his hands carding through her hair, pulling her head slightly back so he could look into her eyes.

“I want to taste you.” Aethelflaed said, surprising herself. It wasn’t something she had often done, even with Uhtred, but in that moment it was all she could think of. She walked Aldhelm backwards until his legs hit the bed and he sat down, then she knelt down in front of him and tentatively took the head of his cock into her mouth.

It had been a while since she had done this, and she went slowly at first, exploring his cock with her tongue and hands before returning to suck on the tip. She glanced up and saw that Aldhelm’s eyes were closed, his mouth ever so slightly open, and the sight spurred her on. She moved her head down, mindful of her teeth, and took as much of him in as she could until her eyes watered and she had to move back. As she gained confidence she picked up speed, her hand working what her mouth couldn’t reach, and only stopped when Aldhelm tightened his fingers in her hair and pulled her off.

“I’m close.” He warned her, his voice hoarse, and Aethelflaed delighted in being able to undo him so.

“Then finish.” She told him, returning to his cock with renewed vigour. Aldhelm held on for a few seconds longer then came, spilling into her mouth. It came as a shock to Aethelflaed, it always did, but to her relief she managed to swallow. When she looked up Aldhelm was breathless, his head thrown back, and she couldn’t resist rising up to kiss him. He laughed, wrapping his arms around her and rolling them both back onto the bed properly, returning her kiss with a passion.

When he’d kissed her mouth long enough he moved downwards, kissing along her neck and down her chest until he reached her breasts. He cupped them in his hands, taking one nipple gently between his teeth then replacing it with his lips, sucking ever so slightly and sending shivers all the way down Aethelflaed’s body. As his mouth was occupied with her breasts, his hand travelled up her thigh, tracing light circles that moved agonisingly slowly towards where she wanted them the most.

“Aldhelm, please.” She gasped, and felt him chuckle against her chest in response.

Aldhelm’s fingers were delightfully long, and Aethelflaed’s breath hitched as they entered her. He wasn’t gentle, but he wasn’t rough either, somehow thrusting into her at the exact tempo she needed. As his fingers worked inside her his thumb rubbed against her clit, and she moved her body against him in time with his movements. Aldhelm kept the pace up, neglecting her breasts in favour of leaning up to suck bruises into her neck. She would have to wear high collars for the next few days, and the thought of conducting business with her subjects while the marks of Aldhelm’s love were hidden by just a piece of cloth was enough to tip her over the edge. Her mouth fell open in a silent cry as her body tensed, and Aldhelm stroked her through her orgasm, removing his hand only when he was certain her pleasure had passed.

“You must never cross your legs in such a fashion again.” She admonished him, turning onto her side so her body slotted perfectly against his. Aldhelm laughed as he held her tight, one hand playing with her hair.

“But it has such excellent results.”

****

The next few weeks passed by in much the same fashion. Aethelflaed performed her duties as the Lady of Mercia by day and lay with Aldhelm by night, finding the perfect balance between the two. She felt as though she floated through those weeks, buoyed by her love for both Aldhelm and the work she did protecting and nurturing her kingdom. The watchtower was coming along well, the foundations finally complete and the walls being readied to be built. She was wary when riding out to the neighbouring villages though, the attempt on her life still fresh in her memory. Her personal guard was increased and she rarely left the city without her armour on.

There was only one thing that could disrupt her newfound peace, and that was the arrival of Uhtred. He arrived one cold but bright afternoon, travelling northward to Northumbria with his men in tow. This was the first time he had visited since their affair had ended, and even though a part of her ached for what they had had, seeing him stand in front of her now made her realise that they could never have carried on. It had been exciting, and wonderful, but it was in the past. They embraced warmly, and to Aethelflaed’s relief they easily fell into their old patterns of talking and reminiscing, as they had before they had become hopelessly entwined.

While Aethelflaed could greet Uhtred with a smile and open arms, Aldhelm understandably was less than thrilled with the new arrival. He didn’t say as much: he was too restrained, too respectful of Aethelflaed’s feelings to voice his displeasure, but he seemed stiffer than usual, more like the man he had been when they had first met than the man she knew and loved now. He was nothing but polite to Uhtred, of course, but Aethelflaed could tell he was rattled by the other man’s presence.

It was almost comical to watch them both as they sat down for food that night, Uhtred picking up on the subtle looks between Aldhelm and herself and deducing the situation immediately, and acting so much louder and and more argumentative than usual as a result. Aldhelm, for his part, had resorted to the thinly veiled insults he had so often favoured during his time as Aethelred’s man. Aethelflaed wouldn’t be surprised if they started comparing the sizes of their estates soon, and tried not to laugh as Aldhelm said something that made Uhtred bristle.

“I hear you’ve become a father, Sihtric.” Aethelflaed commented to Uhtred’s man, in an attempt to distract herself from the goings on next to her.

“I have, lady.” He replied with a smile. “You should bring Aelfwynn with you when you next visit Coccham, I’m sure she would get on well with my daughter.”

“I think she’d love that.” Aethelflaed answered, ignoring the cough from Finan that sounded suspiciously like “ _our_ daughter.” She was fond of Uhtred’s men, and admired their loyalty and ferociousness both on and off the battlefield. She was especially fond of the exasperated letters she regularly received from Hild, detailing the little dramas that occurred with them in Coccham. They had been wonderful in their time protecting Aelfwynn from Eardwulf and she was sure they would be great, if perhaps unorthodox, parents.

“And how is Hild?” she continued, though she had received a missive from the abbess only the day before warning her that Uhtred was on his way.

“She’s thriving, lady.” Finan answered. “She knows she’s the one who’s really in charge in Coccham, so she’s satisfied enough.”

“It’s true.” Uhtred shrugged, tiring of his verbal sparring with Aldhelm and joining their conversation. “Though I would much prefer it if my men kept that fact a secret.”

“I could never tell a lie, lord.” Finan held his hands up in mock innocence and Aethelflaed laughed. She missed the times she had spent with Uhtred and his warriors. They had been tense times, times when she had feared for her life, but the severity of those situations had been much lessened by the lighthearted joking of the men. She should invite them to stay properly sometime, she thought, although perhaps at a time when Aldhelm looked less likely to strangle Uhtred in his sleep.

The rest of the evening thankfully passed without incident, her guests one by one excusing themselves until only she and Aldhelm remained in the great hall.

“You should not let Uhtred get to you.” She said lightly as she set to work returning her hall to some semblance of order. Uhtred and his men seemed to create chaos and mess wherever they went, unintentionally or not. “What was between us has long passed.”

“I know.” Aldhelm said, stretching his arms out and standing up. “But I find I cannot help myself when you are concerned.”

Aethelflaed had thought he was going to help her with the tidying, but instead he moved behind her, wrapping her in his arms and nosing into her hair.

“Jealousy is a sin, Aldhelm.” Aethelflaed joked as he brushed her hair to one side allowing him to kiss her neck. “Though in truth you have nothing to be jealous of.”

“Protective, lady.” He replied with a huff. “I would never presume to own you, but I do not care for his eyes on you.”

“And that is all that he shall have on me. His eyes, and no more. Whereas I would have your hands on me.” Aethelflaed abandoned all thoughts of tidying and lifted Aldhelm’s hands to cover her breasts, letting out a sigh of pleasure as he gently massaged them.

“I would have your lips.” She continued, tilting her head back to allow him to bend down to kiss her.

“I would have your cock.” She said, reaching behind her to feel Aldhelm through his breeches. He was already hardening, and she rubbed him slowly before turning round and pressing her body against his.

“Would you have me, Aldhelm?” She asked, teasingly. “Here? In this hall? Where Uhtred could walk in at any moment.” She leant up to whisper the last part in his ear, delighting in the way his hands tightened on her waist.

“I would, lady.” He replied, his voice rough.

“Then take me.” She commanded.

Aldhelm groaned and pulled her in for a kiss, his tongue darting out to meet hers as he pushed her back until she was sitting on one of the long tables. Aethelflaed felt a thrill in Aldhelm taking her somewhere where they could possibly be found, and she kissed him back with fervour. She scrabbled for the ties of his breeches as he rucked her skirt up until it sat around her hips, and gasped as his fingers rubbed against her.

There was little time for foreplay, as the risk of discovery meant there was an urgency in their movements. Aethelflaed battered Aldhelm’s hand away from her and hooked her legs behind his back, urging him forwards and inside. He groaned softly as he entered her, and Aethelflaed tried her hardest to keep quiet. It was too much, too fast, but it felt _so good_ and in a few short moments all the discomfort was gone, and all she could focus on were the waves of pleasure that spread through her body as Aldhelm thrust into her. After a while the hard, unyielding table beneath her back grew uncomfortable, and she tapped on Aldhelm’s arm to get him to pull out.

“The throne. Sit on it.” She said breathlessly, a mischievous idea springing to her mind.

Aldhelm obliged, settling himself on the cushions of the throne and guiding his cock back into Aethelflaed as she moved to straddle him. _Much better,_ Aethelflaed thought, and she took control of the pace as she rode Aldhelm as hard as she could. She held onto the back of the throne to give herself more leverage, and let her head fall back as Aldhelm worked his hand between them, providing the most delicious friction. Aethelflaed couldn’t hold on much longer, and buried her face in the crook of Aldhelm’s neck to muffle her cry as she came. Aldhelm followed soon after, his hands tightening on her hips so hard she knew she would have bruises there the next day.

Aethelflaed kissed him, once, then stood up and hurriedly brushed the skirts of her dress back into place. Now that the wave of passion had passed she felt incredibly foolish for initiating something so risky, but the happy, dazed look on Aldhelm’s face made it all worth it.

“I should find myself jealous more often.” Aldhelm joked.

“Protective, Aldhelm. Protective.”

****

Uhtred and his men only stayed for a couple of nights, enough time to rest their horses and catch up on the affairs of Mercia. He promised to keep an ear out for whoever had placed the bounty on Aethelflaed’s head, and advised her to stay vigilant.

“I’m fine, Uhtred.” She said warmly as he saddled his horse, ready to depart.

“All the same. I will come to your aid if ever you need me.” He promised.

“Thank you.” Aethelflaed smiled and kissed his cheek. “I wish you all the best on your journey north.” 

Uhtred smiled, and there was something sad in his eyes then.

“Just one thing, lady, before we leave. Does he make you happy?” he asked. He didn’t have to say who.

“He does.” Aethelflaed said simply. Aldhelm made her more than happy: he made her feel safe, and powerful, and fit to bursting with joy, but she said none of that to Uhtred.

“Then that is enough to make me happy.” He mounted his horse. “If he should ever hurt you-”

“You’ll be the first to know, Uhtred.” Aethelflaed said with a smile.

Uhtred nodded, and turned to whistle to his men, signalling their departure. Aethelflaed crossed her arms as she watched them leave. She was lucky to have such a man in her life, even as a friend rather than a lover. She worried though, that if Uhtred had been able to spot her and Aldhelm’s relationship so easily then others would too.

“I can’t carry on like this for much longer.” Aethelflaed said one night as she lay against Aldhelm’s chest. “I fear we may be caught, and even if we are not I want everyone to know that you are mine.”

“They already know that, lady.” Aldhelm’s fingers were tracing light spirals where they rested on her arm. He still called her lady, more out of habit than anything, but the way he said it had taken on a different tone when they were alone. _My_ lady, it implied, and Aethelflaed loved it.

“I will summon the ealdormen and put forward an argument for our marriage.” Aethelflaed had been running over a viable argument in her head for a while now. “I may even tell them I had a divine dream ordering me to marry you.”

“You would risk lying about such a matter?”

“It would only be a half lie. When I was a child I did once have a dream where Saint Cedd came to Wintanceaster with the sole purpose of telling me that my hair was a disgrace and I would never marry if I didn’t brush it. Saint Cedd looked a lot like my mother, which was peculiar.” Aethelflaed’s pious parents had led to many peculiar dreams with saints in as a child.

Aldhelm chuckled. “Whatever you decide, I will support you. Even if it involves blasphemous lies.”

“Half-lies.” Aethelflaed corrected, then laughed. She was certain she could put forward a strong enough argument to the ealdormen. One that spoke to their loyalty to Mercia.

“It’s strange to think how I despised you all those years ago, yet here I am planning to break an oath in order to marry you.” She wondered aloud. She felt Aldhelm stiffen minutely against her before relaxing again.

“I am... not proud of the man I was, lady. But I have you to thank for helping me change into a better man. I only regret that it took me so long.”

Aethelflaed laughed, rolling over so she could look at Aldhelm directly.

“And yet it took you so little time to fall in love with me.” She teased. To her surprise Aldhelm shook his head slightly.

“In a way. I fell in love for what you stood for that day you left Aethelred behind to ride into battle. I loved you because in that moment you were Mercia. It was only later that I loved you because you were Aethelflaed.”

To her embarrassment Aethelflaed blushed, and she looked away for a moment.

“You are too good with your words, Aldhelm.” She said, smiling at him. “I fear my own admissions of love cannot compete.”

“They do not need to.” He said, pulling her closer. “That you love me at all is enough.”

It was foolish to fall asleep in Aldhelm’s chambers, Aethelflaed knew that, but she was far too comfy to move. She closed her eyes, and fell asleep in his arms, dreaming of the Witan she would hold.

****

Aethelflaed had never been particularly nervous. She had felt butterflies in her stomach when she married Aethelred, and had felt fear when she was captured by the Danes, but she had never dreaded anything as much as she dreaded addressing the Witan now. She looked at the assembled ealdormen and cleared her throat. It was time.

“My lords, I have called this Witan to discuss a matter of great importance. It regards the future of Mercia and all who call her home. I’m sure you remember the oath I made to never take another man as husband or lover: a necessary step to ensure that Mercia remains in the hands of one of her own.” She started, but was cut off before she could continue.

“You call us here to break that oath!” Lord Irwyn accused, interrupting her. Several other ealdormen muttered their disagreement with such a proposal.

“I call you here to discuss an alternative. One that will serve Mercia better.” Aethelflaed said loudly, drowning out all other voices. “An alternative that came to me in a dream.” She did not explicitly say it had been a divine dream, but she hoped the ealdormen would interpret it as such. This way, she was not lying, for had she not been dreaming about breaking her oath in order to marry Aldhelm these last weeks?

“I have but one child. A daughter, and though she may well one day take my place on the throne of Mercia it is not wise to place all our hopes for the future of this kingdom on one child. I feel I should marry again, marry a good, loyal Mercian, to help secure the longevity of our great kingdom.”

“Preposterous!” Lord Irwyn shouted, gesturing at the assembled ealdormen “Who is there left to marry? Any of our sons or nephews are more of an age with the Lady Aelfwynn.”

Aethelflaed held her breath and scanned the room, her eyes landing on Lord Cuthbert. She gave him an imperceptible nod and he stood up.

“Lord Aldhelm, I believe, is as yet unmarried.” He said in a clear voice, his words smooth and well rehearsed. To Aethelflaed’s relief the other ealdormen stopped arguing in order to listen.

“He comes from a long line of true Mercians, and has fought for us and our kingdom many times. Surely, our Lady’s marriage to such a man is preferable than her remaining chaste the rest of her life? Let us not forget that the Lady Aethelflaed is of Wessex, and though she has never given us reason to doubt her loyalty to Mercia we would be fools to pass by the chance to strengthen her bond to our kingdom.” Lord Cuthbert sat down, looking pleased that he had remembered his lines. His involvement had been Aldhelm’s plan, and the price had merely been sending five men from her household guard to permanently serve at Lord Cuthbert’s burh on his land that bordered Northumbria.

The ealdormen muttered amongst themselves, and Aethelflaed strained to pick out individual words.

“What say you?” She asked.

“Is this really for Mercia? Or do you miss the feeling of a man in your bed?” a minor lord she did not recognise called out.

“You will hold your tongue.” Aldhelm stepped forward, his hand moving to rest on the hilt of his sword as a silent threat. Aethelflaed held up a hand to still him.

“Would you not miss the company of your wife, if she had died? Whether I wish to marry again or not is irrelevant: it is in Mercia’s best interests for me to marry Aldhelm, and we must not let personal matters cloud our judgement.” She said in a measured tone.

“It came to her in a dream.” One of the ealdormen muttered to the lord who had spoken up, and he coloured, seemingly accepting this argument.

“Does anyone else object?” she asked.

“Does the Lord Aldhelm get no say in the matter?” someone else asked. Aethelflaed turned to Aldhelm, trying to resist the urge to smile.

“If it is what’s best for Mercia, then I stand ready to serve.” He said formally. His answer seemed to please the ealdormen, and one by one they all murmured their agreement.

“Then it is settled.” Aethelflaed rose from her throne and offered her hand to Aldhelm. He took it and squeezed it ever so slightly. “For the good of Mercia and her people, I shall marry Lord Aldhelm and do my duty to secure the throne for generations to come.”

She dropped Aldhelm’s hand and left the hall, her heart lighter than it had been in a while. She felt almost fit to burst with happiness. Tonight, she would take Aldhelm in her arms in secret, but soon… soon she would take him in her arms in front of the whole of Mercia. She smiled to herself as she walked. Aelfwynn would be delighted.

**Author's Note:**

> James Northcote's "A Day in the Life" is the best of them all and it took all my self restraint not to include Aldhelm playing tag with Uhtred and Sihtric in this fic. Maybe another time.


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